What Claire Did
by Siana17
Summary: One-shot, post-The Hollow Men, pre-Epitaph One, Claire's POV. She still hates Topher... How does she feel about living with him and his breakdown?


**A/N: The whole Claire/Topher thing is something I particularly wish had been explored more. I'd love to know other people's views on this... Please do review!**

**This is post-The Hollow Men by about two years. At this point, in my version of it all, they're just hiding out, trying to fight but not knowing what to do. And Topher isn't yet at the stage of breakdown we saw in Epitaph One.**

* * *

Claire watched. Standing just out of sight by the entrance to a pod room, she watched them sit, talk, smile.

Topher's pod was surrounded by paraphernalia that he had collected around himself in the last two years. He had taken to sleeping there, not long after they had returned to the Dollhouse. Why? Did it ease his guilt? Was it through pity? At first he had just slept there, but as time went by he left it less and less. His refusal to enter his old office had happened early on, but the more time that went by, the less frequently he entered the main hall, the less he spoke, the more prone to strange outbursts he became. He retreated, away from the rest of the Dollhouse and into himself.

Claire had been glad. Every time she saw him, the knot in her stomach had tightened with hate. She did not want to be around him, yet she had to live underground with him. So at first, she had been happy that he stayed shut away from everybody else.

But then... then she had felt drawn towards his room. She had found herself walking over there, looking at him through the glass. She didn't know why. She began to make excuses to see him – administering his medication, checking up on him. And every time, that knot in her stomach kept tightening, but now she was unsure – what was it? Was it hate? Surely it was. She despised him. Yet now, mixed in with that... was there something else? She barely dared to suggest to herself what those emotions might be. Pity, understanding... she could not feel these things for him. She could not.

Guilt? Was there guilt? Claire rested her head against the cool glass, eyes closed. Why did she cause herself pain by visiting him, watching him? He was constantly in her thoughts, she could never be free of him!

She knew there was satisfaction, though. She was not just glad that Topher had retreated, she was glad that he was hurting. She took pleasure in seeing him broken. It made her slightly happier to know that he was not. And so she clung to this, in the midst of her other confusing feelings.

...Feelings that he had given her. They told her that she had been taken by Rossum and imprinted with another identity, but they had taken her back and returned her to Dollhouse. Where she belonged? And there, they had brought her back, brought Claire back. Topher had brought her back.

She remembered it clearly. That confused, light feeling as she slowly sat up. "Did I..." she had begun, the words feeling new on her tongue, until all of a sudden it came back to her. Her vision focused and there by her side was Topher Brink, just watching her. She met his gaze and all the feelings she had always felt towards him came bubbling back up. She could feel her own hatred emanating from her, her cold gaze unable to leave him. And he just looked back, unreadable. Not caring? Why had he not changed her? He could have taken away those feelings.

She didn't ask why he had brought her back, _her_. She didn't need to know. She knew they must have discovered that she had destroyed her original self. She also knew that Topher could have repaired the wedge. But he didn't and she was glad.

She was snapped back to the present by the sound of laughter. Laughter! They were laughing. Of course, Adelle had always been the exception to Topher's isolation. He felt safe around her, he was more himself around her, she refused to leave him, she cared for him. But now they were laughing...

It made her feel sick. Lately, Topher had been... better. He spoke normally more, he was calmer. He had even left the pod a few times. And now he was laughing.

From somewhere in the building, a short bell rang. Still smiling, Adelle said, "I've got to go, sweetheart. That's the dinner bell." As she made to stand, she reached and touched his cheek, gently, briefly. Before she could remove it, Topher lifted his own hand and placed it on top of her own. Their eyes met as they smiled at each other. He lowered her hand and squeezed it in his before letting go.

"I'll see you after dinner," Adelle said, standing.

"Perhaps I'll come to dinner tomorrow," he said.

Adelle did not reply, but Claire knew her well enough to know how that made her feel.

"Goodbye, darling," she said, her voice betraying just a tiny bit of that emotion, before leaving the room through to door opposite Claire.

As she went, Topher sank back into his pod. He deflated a little, began tapping something he had written on the pod wall, picked up a piece of paper and began folding it. Claire watched for a minute or two. Then she entered. She knew what it was time to do.

"Topher," she said.

His head shot up. He smiled when he saw her. How could he smile at her? After what she had done!

"Hi, Claire." He shuffled around so that he was looking up at her as she crouched down by the side of his pod, in a small gap. He began playing a rhythm on his knees with his hands, unable to sit still, but smiling, still smiling. "Got some of those, those delicious pills for me?"

She didn't say anything.

"Claire?"

"Why don't you hate me?" she asked.

"What? What?" He stopped tapping the rhythm and shifted slightly away from her. "Why should I hate you?"

She looked at him. He was sincere, she knew that. At first, she hadn't been able to understand it. Why had Topher brought her back, why did her talk to her, why did he not seem to mind being around her?

"I killed the woman you loved," she said.

Topher visibly flinched, jerked backwards, but in almost the same movement he shook his head forcefully. "No. You didn't. Your... your hands, yes, but not... not you. An imprint. A sleeper. Rossum did it... Boyd..." He suddenly jumped forwards, shifting onto his knees and moving close to her. She moved backwards a little, shocked, but he reached up and grabbed her hands, grasping them in his. He looked right into her eyes. "You didn't do it, Claire."

He was so earnest, so wide-eyed, so eager to help her, wanting to make her feel better.

Oh! How she hated him! This was not what she wanted. Everyone in this House, they tiptoed around Topher, they tried to make him feel better – it was all his fault! Had they forgotten that? He had done this to them! He'd done this to her, created her. He brought the world crashing down with his games. And she had thought that at least he had known that. Watching his descent into madness, she had been glad to know that he was being punished, that he was punishing himself. But now he was laughing. She had thought she had stopped him doing that.

"No," she said. She twisted her hands, grasping his instead, pulling him closer so that he was kneeling tall. She leant towards him. "I did do it. I, Dr Claire Saunders, the woman you created, I did it. I killed Bennett Halverson."

She spoke clearly and precisely, looking directly into his eyes, every bit as earnest as he had been a moment ago. She saw the horror slowly come over his face, his eyes widen. He pulled his hands away but he stayed where he was, staring up at her.

"I made the decision. I took the gun. I went to her. And I waited until you came back, so that you could see. I wanted you to see. You don't get to love, Topher Brink," she spat. "I shot her because of you, because of what you did, and I would do it again. I killed her. Don't you ever forget that."

She stood and looked down at him. He wasn't looking at her anymore, he was still staring at the spot where she had been, hugging his knees. The knot in her stomach was still there, she still hated him with every ounce of her being. The other feelings, whatever they were, were banished, for now at least. The satisfaction was back. This was right. It was right that he should suffer, as he had caused her to suffer, as he had caused the world to suffer. That was why she had shot Bennett in the first place. And now he knew – he knew without a doubt, beyond any doubt, that he _should_ suffer.

"No..." Topher began to whisper. "No... No, no... NO, NO!"

A smile spread across her lips as Claire walked out of the room.


End file.
